Maybe I'm Twisted 2
by Rey
Summary: [Chapter 8 uploaded] The story continues... Butch goes to sleep one night and wakes up in a very, very different place. Will he be able to get back home? And, in the end, will he really want to? Someone will help him make that choice.
1. New Time, New Place

Author

Author's Note: Um. So starts the sequel. Not long-awaited, not anticipated, probably not appreciated, but, oh, here it is. Have fun, dear readers.

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 1 - New Time, New Place   
**"Dude, where's my house?"

The night was calm, and peaceful, the air was mostly still, with a slight breeze gusting through every once in a while. Quite like the night when Buttercup had taken it upon herself to recreate the Rowdyruff Boys. But this night was different. In more than one aspect, indeed.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Boomer reclined on the floor. Transfixed by the television, they were peaceful, as was the Professor in the next room, calmly doing his work. But it was a completely different story on the couch.

Butch was sandwiched between Brick and Buttercup, in the crack between the pillows. As if it wasn't bad enough to be crammed between two 'lovebirds,', they were carrying a heated argument out over him.

"Pineapple!" snapped Brick, snubbing his non-existent nose, eyes narrowed like a cat's, as if he were looking for a fight.

"BEEF!" Buttercup stomped on the couch, now standing up on the couch precariously, attempting to maintain her balance.

"You know what?" Butch muttered defiantly, thoroughly sick of their arguing, "I'd like spaghetti."

There was a deadly silence in the room, except for the rambling of the television. Brick and Buttercup, both incensed, turned their eyes from each other down to him. Butch crossed his arms rebelliously, keeping his eyes on the screen.

After a while of glaring at each other in silence, anger got the better of Buttercup. "Beef," she said mutinously, as if daring Brick to take up her unspoken challenge.

"_Pineapple_!" Brick roared, jumping at her, stepping on Butch in the process. They tussled on the couch, using it - and Butch - as a wrestling mat. He was battered and beaten quiet violently, and one of the two fighters even came upon the notion to grab his hair and yank. After a few moments, his temper wore down.

"**Get the F_CK off me**!" Butch screamed, forcefully grabbing the both of them and throwing them on the floor. He shot off the couch and up the stairs, the green trail lingering for but hardly an instant before fading away.

Buttercup, tangled in a heap with Brick, could only look up dazedly as the Professor came rushing into the TV room.

"What, what is it? What happened here?" He said worriedly, looking down at them.

Absently, Blossom replied, "Buttercup an' Brick were messing around and they made him upset."

The Professor frowned slightly. "Oh. Well... okay," he said, and spun on his heel quickly to return to his work. _It's probably nothing serious._

"Argh. I'm mad. I shouldn't be so mad, but I'm mad anyway. I'm mad at them. Why do they have to fight? I want spaghetti," Butch glared at the mirror on the closet in the boys' room.

Their room had been set up just down the hall from the girls', but it was nothing like theirs. Like the girls would have fanatically collected more stuffed toys, the boys accumulated their own type of junk. Books on the art of war and tactics, computer games for the PC downstairs, model fighter jets, Pokémon... Enough to keep them occupied, at least, and out of trouble. It was furnished quite like the girls' room as well, though the boys had their own seperate beds. When the Professor had been asked why, he had simply said because boys sleep better that way, and they had agreed on that point.

A bookshelf stood by Brick's bed, Butch and Boomer sharing a nightstand. Posters covered much of the walls. Brick preferred pictures of medieval weapons, swords of all types, maces, axes, daggers, spears. Boomer's section of the wall had been plastered with pictures of wizards and dragons and mythical creatures. Butch strolled to his own posters and pictures; running his hand almost lovingly over the enlarged photograph of the AK-47 and the M5, gazing up at the tanks and fighter jets with pride.

After a while, he returned to his bed. His anger had been put off for those few moments and now it returned in full force. How dare they! How... how... He yawned. Perhaps this was a bad time to get angry. He knew he was getting tired, and he could feel it, too, so he went to get washed up in the bathroom across from their door.

Washed up and in his green pajamas, Butch muttered as he switched off the light, crawling into bed early. He wasn't that hungry, anyway, so they could enjoy their pizza. Or whatever they were having for dinner.

What seemed like ages and ages later, Butch woke up from his dead sleep. He slowly cracked open an eye, bringing a hand up to rub the other one.

"Hunnh..." He grumbled to himself, sitting up slowly. "Hey Brick, I -"

Butch stopped dead. Something was wrong, very wrong.

His brothers weren't there. Their beds weren't there. This wasn't his room. And if he was right, this wasn't his house, either. He hovered out of bed, and was relieved to see he could still fly. He looked down at his hands. They... they looked old, somehow. Leaving his bed unmade, he streaked out of the room, looking for his own bathroom. And more importantly, a mirror.

He found it quite easily, and, gazing into the mirror, what he saw was not Butch.

Rather, not the Butch he knew, not the Butch he was. Staring back from that reflection was a tall, lanky young man, with scruffy black hair and large green eyes, and his face was flushed. He wore just a pair of pajama pants.

Butch stared for a few moments more, and screamed.

His voice, too, came out very different indeed. It was deeper, and more mature-sounding. Not that he would ever be mature, though. And it had an intimidating ring to it. The kind of voice that no one would want to disagree with.

Closing his mouth quickly, he lifted a hand to feel his chin. Stubble. Alright, well... Something was going on here, but he knew he had to deal with it. Calmly, if at all possible. He began to wash up, grabbing the tube of toothpaste and squeezing it onto the toothbrush. As he brushed, frenzied thoughts rushed through his head. What was going on here?

He rinsed, and spat into the sink, before washing his face. He was about to leave the bathroom and get changed - when he found the closet - but remember the stubble on his chin.

What came next was indescribable, but Butch exited the bathroom with several cuts on his face. He needed to get the hang of that shaving thing, definitely.

Once dressed, he found the stairs down to the first floor - apparently there were only two rooms on the second floor, his bedroom and the bathroom - and hovered downstairs. He moved through the living room slowly, orientating himself, and entered the small, but workable kitchen. Just as he began to make breakfast, still thinking hard, the phone - he had a phone in the kitchen? - began to ring. Setting down the toast he had buttered next to his fried eggs, he streaked for the phone and picked it up before the second ring was over.

"Hello?" He said, slightly nervous.

The voice that replied was very, very familiar. "Hey Butch, my man! Sup? This's Brick, if you haven't realized. How's the single life?"

_Brick? Maybe he's like me! Lost... like me..._ "Um... it's okay. How's Buttercup?"

There was a silence on the other end of the line. "...Jeez, have you been drinking again? We lost contact with her a few years back. If you will recall."

Butch's heart sank. "Oh, um, yeah. I don't know, I'm feeling kinda woozy. Hangover," He fabricated. "Remind me about our history."

He could almost imagine the bemused expression on Brick's face. "What you going on about? ..Well, if you insist. We're in the UK, in case you've forgotten that too," Brick said sarcastically. As he couldn't see Butch's mouth drop open, he continued. "And... dunno where Blossom is. Who cares? Boomer's in the states, still. Working there. Yeah, that's about it. Hey, and in case you've forgotten your job as well, you're a cop, a'ight? Now enough of that. You free over there? I'm bored sh_tless here."

"Um... Um, yeah," Butch said, attempting to swallow his stomach, which was trying to climb up his throat. "What you want to come over for?"

"Bring my new girlfriend, show her off to you, poor single dope. Tall, willowy blonde chick, you remember Bubbles, don't you?"

This time, Butch couldn't swallow his shock. "Wha - what? Bubbles?" _But... I like Bubbles! ..and... wait... Buttercup... ..._

There was an audible sigh. "Yeah, Bubbles. We'll be over in a bit, okay?" _Click._

Butch frowned, hanging up the phone. But before he could return to his breakfast, which was already getting cold, the phone rang again. With an even deeper frown and a growl surfacing in his throat, he answered.

"Yo," he said deeply.

The voice that replied was unfamiliar, with a slight British twang to it. "Hey, Butch. It's me, Robin." _Robin?_ "I understand it's a weekend and sh_t, so I won't be bothering you much, but we got a job coming up soon. Sure hope you're up to it, we're going for the Smiths." Without bothering to wait for an answer, the other line went dead.

Butch slammed the phone back down, and bumped his head against the cupboard, sighing. Before he could do anything to fix his problem, he had to get used to this new life. And it looked like it was going to be dead difficult getting used to this.

Rey: Um... so how was it? For a sequel beginning? Hm? Hm? HMMM?! Reviews, puh-leez. I beg of you.


	2. More Discoveries

Author

Author's Note: Well. Thank you for the reviews. As of such, I felt compelled to write chapter 2, so someone would know "what was going on". Basically, he went to sleep, and woke up in the future or something. Okay? Um... I also decided to have, from chapter 2 onwards, first-person-view from Butch. Yeah. Unless, of course, there's a scene elsewhere not involving him.

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 2 - More Discoveries (Parts I and II)**  
Part I

_ At least tell me what you think of him._

_ I don't think much of him yet. I know he is confused, though. Very confused._

_ I know that, too. But is this their future? This corrupt world?_

_ What it will be unless he changes._

_ Changes what?_

_ Himself._

I quite easily found a small, but neat, 'dining' room next to the kitchen. _My kitchen, _I reminded himself, _and unless my wife turns up, it's my house, too._

I was still very confused by what was happening, and as I sipped his orange juice, I tried to control the part of his mind that made him want to twitch at every sound, and attack anything that moved. _There is a logical cause for all this. If only I could find it..._ Even looking down at myself sent a chill up my spine. I was _tall_. This definitely wasn't what I usually wore, a football jersey... cargo pants? But thank God they were in green and black, at least.

As I shoved the chair back and stood up, intending to return the plate, the fork and knife, and the glass to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. _Great, they're here already,_ I thought, and - was I really walking? - left my junk in the sink before moving to find the door and answer it.

I opened the door, and somehow managed to stop my mouth dropping open at the sight of my brother. Much taller, as well, but shorter than me, with that same baseball cap on backwards, in a red shirt and tan pants. However, I was unable to control my reaction at the sight of Bubbles.

"Tall and willowy," like Brick had described. A blonde beauty. She was slender but not emaciated, golden locks tumbling down her shoulders. She wore a shawl around her neck, a tight blue number and girly shoes. It took me a while to remember the name "platform shoes". She carried a small handbag.

"Yo brotha," Brick said, offering a grin. Bubbles, beside him, smiled brightly, leaning forward to kiss my cheek as means of a greeting. I blushed, just barely, somehow managing to keep my composure.

"Hi, Butchie!" She giggled. "Long time no see!" Brick slowly, protectively, slid an arm around her waist, and I definitely noticed. My own brother was warning me off! A flare of anger rose in my throat - how dare _he_ claim Bubbles as his own - but I managed to swallow it, and stepped aside to allow them both inside.

Minutes later, we were seated in my living room, around a coffee table. I had only just noticed my house was tastefully decorated, and everything matched. Not only that, everything was clean. I wondered if I had really changed that much over the years... Brick and Bubbles together on one couch, I on the other one facing them, leaning forward. I felt mildly self-conscious, and even... lonely. Jealous. New emotions which I couldn't identify with at the time.

Though I had trouble tearing my eyes away from Bubbles, I tried his best to make conversation. "So, Brick, my man. What's up in your house?" It was strange to think - to know I wasn't attracted to Bubbles like I would have been to any nameless face that had a figure like hers. Looking at her, it was what I felt. Attraction, but not lust. And now my brother, my very own brother, had put a seal on her and claimed her as his own. It troubled me deeply, but I focused his attention on the exchange.

"Nothin' much, just little Bubbles here," He laughed, kissing her cheek affectionately. I swallowed, with a forced grin.

"Yeah, well. It's not a very good time for me," I lied through my teeth. "I woke up this morning wondering, _Who am I? Where am I?_ so you'll understand if I'm a little out of it." I searched my memory, and was definitely quite amazed to find I had two memories - one of going to sleep in the Professor's house after being beaten up between Brick and Buttercup, and one of going shopping yesterday for food in the supermarket. I knew what I had to do, and left the talking up to the memories of my current .. universe.

"Robin called just now," I said, while dredging up whatever I could recall of this person named Robin. _Robin's my partner? Partner? No, not that kind of partner. You're an undercover, remember? She's your partner. Pretty useful one, too. _"Said something about going after the Smiths this one time."

Bubbles gasped, putting a hand over her mouth, horrified. "You mean... that... that horrible gang!"

I felt my face set in a grim expression, and my tone grew dark. "Yeah, although they're more of a ring of crooks than anything else. Some steal, some deal drugs, some are..." I paused. "Contract killers." Bubbles looked all the more appalled, and held Brick's arm tightly.

"Oh, dear! I hope you'll be alright, Butch..." Bubbles said worriedly. Brick gave her a lopsided smile as she rested her head on his shoulder. Something in me twitched in a pang of envy, but once again, I swallowed it down.

"Yeah. Yeah, I will," I said, after a moment's worth of composing myself. "Anyway, what brings you by here?" I asked. "Just a social visit? Or is it something more urgent than that?" The way I spoke almost frightened the child in myself, the child that had to deal with "grown-up" things now. My tone was authoritative, my chin held high, my eyes narrowed defiantly in a look I had developed over the years. 

"Actually, we were on our way to a movie," Brick said, holding Bubbles closer. "But when she heard you were in town, she wanted to stop by and visit. Just see how you were."

"Yeah," Bubbles piped up cheerily. My heart melted, but I kept my thoughts to myself, and my expression straight.

"I see," I said, raising my hands to crack my knuckles. I was itching to leave the house already, just fly over the town and see what was going on. Keen for action, really. Brick grinned, noticing the telltale signs that his brother wanted everyone to shut up and start fighting.

"Well, we won't impose on you any longer," he said, glancing at his wristwatch. "The movie starts in a while, and we want to get there on time. It's nice seeing you again, brotha," He added, standing and holding out his free hand to me.

I shook his hand courteously, and gave Bubbles a quick hug. "It was nice to see you both too, Brick, and Bubbles. I looked down into her eyes sincerely. For a moment I could've sworn she shivered under my forceful gaze. But even if she did, she quickly collected herself, and joined Brick at the door. After a few more goodbyes, they were off down the street in his car.

I moved from his front door to the kitchen phone, picking it up and dialing - from memory - the phone number of this Robin person. Things were getting stranger by the minute, but I understood some of it now. And maybe, just maybe, talking to this partner of mine would help clarify a few more things as well. As I dialed, the only clear thought, the only thought that made sense in my head was, _When I've figured all this out, I've got to get home and fix it all. This future's out of whack..._

Part II

_Riiiing. Ring riiiiing. _

"Hello?"

"Hey... is Robin home?" For some reason, I felt very self-conscious of my own strange, deep voice, of my slow breathing. I cleared my throat, steadying myself.

"Yes, this is she. Hello, Butch. I expect you've called to learn more about the job we're going for?" Now that I thought about it, this Robin's voice had a very smug tone to it. A tone that made her sound smart-alecky little-sisterish and sexy at the same time. I frowned, eventually regaining my voice.

"Uh. Yeah. The.. um..."

"The Smiths." She supplied. I unconsciously nodded, switching the phone to my other ear. "The job's tomorrow, actually. Jon - you know Jon - will be the money man. I trust you know how to inspect them drugs, so we don't need anyone else for that. Pete's introducing us before the final buy; he'll be briefing us, too."

"Yeah," I said, a little weakly.

"Yeah," She mocked. "Yeeeeah, bay-bee."

"You shut up," I snapped at her. Robin just laughed mildly.

"Well, get your cover ready. The usual?"

_The usual?_ I searched his memory hard. _Boyfriend/girlfriend roles. _"Ahh, yeah. Sure, whatever you say."

"You sound out of it, Butch. You sure you're up to this?" Her voice just had that tinge of concern that would've made me curious if I hadn't been concentrating on coming up with a good excuse.

"Yeah, I'm good. Not enough sleep, I guess." _Yeah, great reason._

A cough on the other end. "If you say so. 'eve, Butch." _Click._

I frowned again as I hung up, lifting a hand to scratch my chin. _So this is my life, huh? This is me twenty years ahead... I could get used to this._

_ Was it really the right choice to pick him?_

_ They all have to play their parts sooner or later._

_ But him? Now?_

_ He has to change. He will. I know it._

Rey: Well, there you go, short and sweet. Anyway, it's been quite uneventful so far (besides the fact that Butch went to sleep and woke up in the future). Mm... But there's a reason why it's labeled under Action/Adventure (next chapter) and Romance (the chapter after that, I think). Well, hang in there. And... and... um... review! Yes...


	3. Dream Gone Wrong

Author

Author's Note: Um. More action here!... and stuff... But... I think it's going to be really really short... -frowns, complete with cracking noises-

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 3 - Dream Gone Wrong  
**"This was my dream job, until..."

_ What is he doing?_

_ What do you think?_

_ I think he is beginning to like this world. Too much, perhaps._

_ I believe the same. However, I also believe that when the time comes, he will make the right choice._

_ When _will_ the time come?_

_ Be patient. He must see and learn, he will gain knowledge, and he must suffer loss..._

Robin and I sat together in the back seat of the car, the man called Pete up in front driving. Pete was a big, bald-headed black guy, wearing a huge puffa jacket with the front open to display the copious amount of gold jewellery adorning the front of his wife-beater. The window next to him was down, his arm hanging out, deep reverberating bass notes from some hardcore rap track thumping out the system. Robin was draped over me sleazily, I myself with a cap tilted rakishly over my head and Ray Bans.

Pete spoke normally back towards them. His prim and proper voice reminded me greatly of an English schoolteacher. "We've been on these guys for two months now, and half of that time was spent getting close to the boss guys. I think Robbie's already told you Jon's the money man; me and him'll be hanging on the corner of third and fifth. You just hang out with your man - Phil - and check out the drugs. Lead him on a little, waste some time. If the deal goes alright, Butch, you take off your jacket and put it on yer girl; and the arrest team'll be up and over once you're clear. If not, turn the bill of your cap to face the back and the team'll be there anyway. A'ight?"

"Mmm," said Robin, sensuously leering towards Pete in the front with a wink. I grabbed her playfully and yanked her backwards.

"You're my girl for now," I growled. Robin glared up at me but resumed her prostitute-like position in my lap. We resumed down the rest of the street in silence, making a few turns before finally arriving in an abandoned parking lot.

I opened the door and allowed Robin to slide out of the car, before climbing out myself. Pete got out of the front seat, allowing me to take his place, Robin taking the passenger's seat. With a final glance towards them and a "good luck," he moved to a huge Mercedes a few lots away, and moved off. _Presumably with Jon in front_, I thought, as I allowed his arm to slide out the window as well, beating the side of the door on each downbeat from the sound system.

We sat waiting for a while, and a few minutes later, a van slowly drove into the lot next to theirs. A shady figure got out, a scarf tied around his neck. He was thin, but moved in a way that showed a wiry strength behind that leather jacket. A wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble that waved at us now. Both Robin and I exited the Merc, striding over to the man.

"You Phil?" I asked gruffly, rogughly dragging Robin to my side. The man nodded slowly, ignoring Robin as her eyes flicked over him appraisingly.

"Well, show us what you've got," I said. The man obliged, opening the side door to the van to allow us to glance inside. 

On the first glance I almost had to rub my eyes at the assortment of drugs piled up in there. Cannabis resin, big blocks of it, wrapped-up rocks of crack, amphetamines, I could recognize these packed up from the wall to the ceiling, a haul worth at least £200,000. In the same instant, I felt Robin beside me tense ever so slightly.

I knew from recalled experience that my line of work was never easy, but every now and then my partner and I were called up for a job that had been arranged in advance, where everything had been done already and all they needed now was to lure the crooks with a big deal and put them behind bars.

As the figure moved to close the door again, Robin raised a hand quickly. "Hold it, maaaaan," she drawled, as if she was a Texan who'd been taking drugs. "My pal here gotta check out what you got, you know. Could be any old sh-t in there."

The man, Phil, growled darkly, and for a split second I wondered if Robin had done the wrong thing. I remembered, though, that the request was quite a routine one. Phil took a knife from the pocket of his coat and slowly sliced a flake of cannabis off the nearest block.

Robin took it from him, and had a sniff, before handing it over to me. I studied it carefully. We repeated the process a few times with the crack as well, but when it was obvious Phil was beginning to get impatient, I decided to call an end to the examination.

"Alright, it's good stuff. We'll take it." Phil gave another growl as a reply, and I closed the van door for him. "You sit in the van, and we'll go tell Pete it's okay to hand the cash over."

Robin pulled out her cell phone and dialed Pete's number, as Phil moved towards the front seat of his van. I took my coat off, carefully draping it over Robin's shoulders as we stepped away from the van. The arrest team quickly sprinted out of nowhere, and from all four directions, towards Phil.

I was about to congratulate Robin on a job well done at the first shouts of "Armed police, you're under arrest!", but then...

The first shot was fired. I felt Robin, beside me, jerk suddenly, and fall. I gazed down, uncomprehending, until I saw the blood trickling slowly from her side, a small, bullet-sized hole the cause.

A wave of rage rippled through me, and, summoning what powers I had left, I rose up and sped towards Phil, who was desperately trying to reload his gun, outstripping the police. We went down together, and the gun clattered to one side, with me holding his victim by the collar, a fist raised up threateningly. Just as I was about to allow his fist to drop down and pummel the man in his rage, the hat Phil had been wearing slid off, revealing dark hair, like mine.

And wide, green eyes.

I gaped, letting go and moving backwards swiftly, the arrest team arriving just then, tiny red pinpricks of light from their guns dancing on Phil's forehead. But it wasn't a Phil. It wasn't even a man.

It was Buttercup.

Rey: Again, short. Well... well, review. Yeah. I might be compelled to write the fourth chapter if you do... ... Go on, review! ...


	4. Works Sucks, I Know

Author

Author's Note: No, Buttercup is not a drug addict, but she sells them, having retreated to a life of crime. Many drug dealers are drug-free, you know. "No good blowing a deal just for the sake of a short high." And I'd like to thank the book _The Infiltrators_ for being a great help. You should buy it, you know. It's a very good book. Oh, and I might get some of this wrong. [Tell me][1] if I do, okay?

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 4 - Work Sucks, I Know  
**"Late night, come home... Work sucks, I know." - Blink 182

I sat on the tarred ground, suddenly conscious of everything around me, the warmth emanating from the road, the cool stillness in the night air, everything disturbed by the chaos. The team was rushing back and forth, no less than three arrest team members holding their guns to Buttercup's head as a fourth attached handcuffs to her. _Yeah, right_, I thought, before I could stop myself. _Like those are going to stop her._

Behind me, I heard sirens in the distance. The ambulance was on its way. I closed my eyes tight, trying to block out the noise, only to be roused to my feet. Cracking open one eye, I vaguely recognized the face that was dragging me along. _David, ... ... leader... dude. _"Hey," I mumbled, as the shouting around me continued and even appeared to be amplified. "How's Robin?"

"She'll be okay," David said. "Look, you seem to have gone into a bit of a shock, there, alright? So don't talk anymore, just take deep breaths."

The conscious part of my brain, the cynical part, suspected he was only saying that to shut me up, but I was too confused and tired to argue, anyway. "Yeah," I mumbled again. "Robin'll be fine."

I honestly believe I displayed recuperative powers that amazed the team. Within minutes I was back into the action, radioing the squad car that was heading towards the station while we speedily followed the ambulance in another squad car.

"Listen, don't interrogate her yet or anything, alright? Just detain her and don't let her out of your sight, see if you can at least do that right, over."

There was a brief pause. "Yes, sir, but she doesn't seem too focused on escaping anyway. Saying something about 'long-lost Rowdyruff' or.. something or other. Over."

I blinked. "Well, just keep her locked up until I get there, alright? Over."

"Sir, yes, sir! Over and out." The radio I held dissolved into the crackling static. I put it down, sighing, and glancing towards David, who drove. He glanced back at me, somehow managing to keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

"What is it?" He asked. The blaring of the ambulance's sirens continued, and the image of that gaping bullet wound stuck in my mind. I shook my head slightly, clearing it of the painful memory, and replied.

"Just... disappointed with how it went. ...It went bad," I added, as an afterthought. David, whose face was as bothered as mine with worry, still managed a quiet chuckle.

"Yeah, I know. At least we got one division of the gang off the street. Robin _will_ be okay, though..." I wondered then, if he was reassuring me, or reassuring himself. I kept my peace, though, receding into silence with the only sounds being our tired breathing, shifting of positions, and the crackling of the car radio.

Robin, loaded onto a stretcher, was swiftly wheeled into the hospital. David and I watched until she disappeared through some double-doors marked "ER" before signing her in. I sat next to him, painfully aware of the fact he was keeping tears back. I'd never known that he'd felt so strongly about her before.

"Hey," I said, after a short while. "I'll get back to the station and deal with the witnesses, alright?"

David lifted his head slowly, turning his gaze on me, before finally nodding. I was doing him a favor, and he knew it - we'd have to return to the station sooner or later, and I was saving him the trouble of seeing to the criminals we'd arrested. Moreover, I was leaving him alone, and perhaps he wouldn't have to struggle to hold in the tears.

"I'll take the car. When you're... ready," I said, "give me a call. I'll send one of the boys down here to pick you up."

"That's alright," he said, his voice strangely hoarse. He reached into his pocket, taking the car keys and holding them out to me. I took them, and left the hospital.

Everything was going so fast... And I had hardly enough time to adjust to this life, this new life, before being thrown into a fresh situation. It worried me a little, but I hadn't given much thought to it, and in the car I drowned myself in the crackling radio instead of pondering further. What I really wanted to do was go home, go back to _my_ house, my home, in my car, and go to my bedroom and fall asleep in my bed. I knew I couldn't do that, though... I had a job to do.

Holding my mug of coffee, I gazed through the dark-tinted glass at Buttercup, still wearing her tan coat and shades. I hoped she couldn't see me; earlier, I had come to the conclusion that we had lost some of our powers, but who knows whether she could see me through the reflective glass? Her expression was somber, her posture a most serious one. For someone who had yielded to a criminal urge, her stance was unnervingly straight and upright. She had long since removed the scarf that had muffled her speech, and draped it over the steel chair she sat on.

Jon, beside me, also studied Buttercup through the observation window. His face was harshly set, his chin balanced on his palms. I carefully sipped the coffee, sending a sideways glance towards him, but he did not return it.

I heard him clear his throat before speaking. "..Buttercup. Of all people, her. ...Why her, Butch? Why?"

"I don't know." I found myself replying without a moment's thought. "Maybe..." I started, but I could find no rational explanation. Being shell-shocked myself, it was easy to understand how Jon felt. "More important, though, is what she's doing over here. Last I heard she was working in the states." It was a lie, of course; I had heard no such thing, but it was getting more and more important to project an image of calm, for that emotion was as easy to spread as anger.

Jon was silent in reply. I peered down at my wristwatch.

"Almost time to go in, Jon. You ready?"

Vaguely, he nodded. I set my mug down, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. "Then let's do it."

"Well, Phil. Buttercup. Whatever your name is. First thing you're gonna tell us is why you did it." Jon imperceptibly switched the tape recorder on behind his back, sitting next to me. I faced Buttercup, attempting to analyze her expression. She had none.

"Did what?" She replied, her voice no longer the harsh facade of a crook named Phil. I raised an eyebrow, eyeing her. She gazed back icily.

"You know what I'm talking about. In case you haven't heard, drug-trafficking is illegal. Come to think of it, pulling a gun on someone is illegal, too."

"I did it because I went bad. I went bad when everything went wrong. I went bad when the Professor died."

I felt myself inhale, a little sharply. "He..."

She mirrored my surprised look mockingly, though her voice remained cold. "What, you didn't hear? Boomer was working with him, yes, Boomer, when they had a bad accident. Seems some toxic waste got out of hand. And, oh, I went bad when my family broke up."

"Good reason to shoot someone," Jon muttered. I elbowed him before continuing.

"Your... family?"

"Don't act dumb," Buttercup said emotionlessly, and suddenly I felt a great absence, as if a hole had been torn out of me and I could look right through myself. Right through Buttercup. The Buttercup I knew would've snarled, would've fought, would've bitten, even. But this Buttercup, she was... she was... dead. Like she had no soul...

There was a pause, and I felt Jon tense. "You know who I'm talking about," Buttercup resumed. "My sisters, the Professor. You were family, too, you, Boomer, you were like in-laws. And there was Brick... But... we..." She swallowed, the first sign of emotion, and the first glimmer of hope for me.

"He's fine," I interjected. She glanced up at me with a look that was almost... sympathizing? I couldn't quite read it. Jon stood, turning the tape recorder off, behind his back.

"I don't suppose there's much else to say," Jon said, glancing at me. "Does she go..." he trailed off.

"To jail?" I shrugged. "Ask the higher-ups in here, not me."

"You go ask," Jon said warily, taking his seat again. I gave him the evil eye, exiting the room without a backwards glance.

I had had approximately one hour of sleep at home before the phone rang. It was Dave, and, as I propped myself up on my elbows, still half-asleep, he ranted into the telephone excitedly.

"Robin'll be okay!! She'll be fine! The bullet didn't hit anything vital!!"

Perking slightly, I attempted to make my voice convey my feelings. "Really? Awesome..." As hard as I tried, it still came out as an emotionless squeak. Dave didn't seem to notice, however, and continued.

"Besides that piece of great news, I've got some bad news. The court hearing for Buttercup's today, and you've got to be there."

I paused, digesting this piece of information. "What? No way..."

"Unfortunately, it's true. Maybe they make exceptions for former-super heroes," He said dryly. I gave a quiet chuckle, though it felt and sounded forced.

"Alright, alright. I'll be there," I grumbled. I could feel the smile waves emanating from Dave over the phone.

"Great!" He beamed. "See you at the court, at ten o'clock sharp! AM, you know!" _Click_.

I fell back onto the bed with a sigh, shifting my eyes to the nightstand where my alarm clock was. Seven-fifty three AM. Just enough time for me to get ready and drive downtown. Without breakfast. _Hope the judge's gonna be brief_, I thought, hovering out of bed towards the bathroom.

Rey: Oh... I was so upset! I thought no one was reading my stories 'cause my review alert isn't working... -sniff- And I was a bit sad, so I stopped writing... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Well... well, review. Yeah... See?... I write for reviews! -sad look- Go on, review?...

   [1]: mailto:TheAK472@aol.com



	5. Mercy

Author

Author's Note: Buttercup became a criminal because of... yet another cliffhanger and a plot twist! -maniacal laughter- So... you return. To read the next chapter. -ducks into a room.. pumps fist- Yes!! Readers... Oh, and [mail me][1] if you'd like, too! I'm not too sure how they run court-things and stuff, so drop a note if I have any glaring errors. Thanks to Sniper for helping with some terms. By the way, it's not too long either. I'm too tired...

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 5 - Mercy   
**"I seen a miracle today, bloody bright and bloody gay, and suddenly the sun's shining..."

I was tired, so very, very tired. And did I mention tired? I couldn't remember - with this memory - where else a job I've done has gone tits-up like this. Sure, the armed arrest team was there, but they definitely weren't fast enough. And now, after just one hour of sleep, I was about to turn up in court with bags under my red eyes, like an oversized bloodhound with a cowlick. Great.

I knew, blearily, someone was speaking, and I was also aware that, at the same time that voice was bitterly angry, it seemed distressed at the same time. Or was it just my mind playing tricks on me again?

"..and so," said... well, someone, I wasn't paying attention, "we have no other choice than to come to the conclusion that the defendant..." He paused, "Buttercup _Utonium_... is guilty of all aforementioned crimes."

I yawned, putting my head down on the table while trying not to look too tired. Yeah, right. Like no one had noticed yet. The judge rapped her gavel on the table to shush the muffled gasps from around the courtroom. I wasn't too sure myself why I had to be present, but I expected they simply wanted someone on hand who could keep Buttercup under control should she decide to attack.

The defense lawyer - _Wotsisname, I can't remember..._ - nudged me in the side imperceptibly. I jerked upright, eyes wide, uncomprehending. He only smiled at me and strolled out onto the floor to do his thing.

"People of the court," he began, and I tuned out. I'd already heard their 'strategy', they were going to argue the case for Buttercup _about _Buttercup, not about 'Phil'. Buttercup sat beside me impassively, watching her lawyer.

I suppose I really had tuned him out, because when I next heard him, he was already wrapping up his speech. With a few discreet glances around, I noticed several people holding handkerchiefs to their eyes. I made a mental note about this lawyer - _Speaks to the people; convincing _- and filed it away under "Useful acquaintances".

As the lawyer retook his seat next to me, he gave me yet another smile and - could that be a wink? _He's creepy_, I noted as well.

The judge 'tapped' the gavel again, making the name plaque labeled "Kendra McKinley" shake visibly. Was it already time for... for... the verdict? I glanced at my watch. Two PM. I'd spent _four hours_ in here?

"Jury?" She said, glancing to her left. The people gathered there nodded, and one man in the small crowd stood up. His face was grim, and it was clear from that expression what he would say.

"We find the defendant, Buttercup Utonium, guilty."

More gasps and head-shaking earned a stern look from the judge. I blinked around, and suddenly stood up, like a creature possessed.

"Your Honor, may I propose a solution?"

She turned that dour look on me, and I felt myself shake. But she sighed, and waved a hand for me to continue. 

"If I may - I offer my own home for the defendant to live in. For - for rehabilitation. Is..."

The judge slowly raised an eyebrow, and I could feel the tension in the court mount rapidly. I checked my collar, keeping my expression as straight as I could. She continued staring at me, and I unconsciously shimmied downwards, back towards my seat.

Whapping that gavel on her desk once more, just for good measure, she scowled. "The defendant is found guilty."

I could hear the prosecution "team" behind us give a collective mutter of approval. The judge's frown slowly crinkled into a slightly ironic smile, though, as she set the gavel down gently. "And I fine the defendant..." she began, and the court held its breath.

"Twenty-three cents."

I was quite sure I heard a few jaws hit the ground. Several people in the crowd actually began weeping. Buttercup, beside me, allowed only an acerbic smile.

The judge glanced at her watch. "Well, seeing as it's Friday the thirteenth, anything can happen. So you have a fun time at that guy's house, Ms. Utonium."

Now Buttercup's jaw dropped in amazement. The judge - Ms. McKinley, God bless her - got off her chair and slowly moved out of the courtroom, in front of a stunned team of prosecuting lawyers, and was immediately swarmed by reporters. While Buttercup's lawyer celebrated with his lawyer buddies, I looked over at her, while attempting to pick some courtroom grit out of my right eye.

"Well?" I questioned, waiting.

She turned her head, her expression inane... and she hugged me tightly.

"Home we go, then," I said, starting up the car, as Buttercup tugged the seatbelt over herself in the passenger's seat. "Or would you like me to pick up some of your favorite chow on the way home?"

She was silent for a while, staring out the window as we turned out of the parking lot, speaking only when I glanced at her to make sure everything was all right. "Actually, Lucky Captain Rabbit King cereal sounds good... right about now. With milk."

"I didn't have breakfast myself, you know," I chuckled. "It's been a long time since I've had that. I quite miss it, really..."

"Yeah." She paused, carefully throwing a sly sidelong glance at me. "I've missed you... Butch."

"Yeah, me too, Buttercup." I smiled, reaching to turn up the radio. This life didn't seem so bad, after all...

Laughing and laden with paper bags, we burst through the door into the living room, towards the kitchen. Buttercup dumped her bags on the "island" table in the middle of my kitchen, and I carefully laid mine next to hers.

"I thought we were buying cereal," I said accusingly, as I began to unpack. She just laughed again, heading back to lock the front door. As I pushed the impossible amount of food we had just bought into the fridge and the cupboards, she folded the paper bags neatly and shoved them in a drawer, still chuckling.

"I didn't mean to go mad," She said, carefully folding the last paper bag up. "It's just that it's been a long time since I've been in a supermarket..."

"Yeah, well." I ran a hand back through my hair, a smile still present on my face. "Well, come on. We've got to get you set up in a room. You want to sleep in my room, or have your own -"

"My own room," she said quickly. Again, I grinned, turning and strolling out of the kitchen towards the closet under the stairs.

"I can deal with that," I said, opening the closet and kneeling down. After a bit of digging around, with Buttercup staring over my shoulder curiously, I came up with a few spare pillows and a thick quilt, surprisingly not as dusty as I thought it would be. Taking the pillows, and letting Buttercup carry her own quilt, we stumbled up the stairs blindly towards the "guest" room next to mine.

The guest room was clean, but not fancy, with just a simple bed and a nightstand next to that, with a closet built into the wall. Noticing Buttercup's obvious lack of experience at making beds, I helped her, and was quite surprised to find that I was rather good at it. _Maybe all that time living alone..._

As we finished neatening the quilt on the bed, a thought struck me suddenly: _What about her clothes?_ I scratched the side of my head, looking up at her. She glanced back inquiringly.

"Buttercup..."

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... do you have any clothes with you?"

She gave me an evil smirk then, and a coy wink. "No, actually..."

"Well," I said hastily, "you can have some of mine. Big shirts, that kind of thing..." Buttercup pouted, putting her hands on her hips, and just then I noticed how familiar she was beginning to look.

"Ruin my fun, will you?" She leaped over the bed, very athletically, and managed to get me in the stomach with both her legs. I fell over with a wheeze, and she landed on top of me. Drawing in as much air as I could, I began laughing, and soon she joined me. The pair of us were practically falling over each other, giggling over something silly.

And at that moment, I realized how much I missed her. How much I missed everyone. How lonely it was in this house, all by myself... Independent... Well, that was going to change now, with Buttercup around. I was going to fix this place, fix this life the best I could. I didn't want to go back, I knew. I liked this place too much.

_He is attached to this world._

_ I know._

_ Is that... is that good?_

_ Not quite._

_ Is this the loss?_

_ Yes._

Rey: Ha ha. Bet you didn't see _that_ coming... "See what coming?" ... oh, never mind ... review!

   [1]: mailto:TheAK472@aol.com



	6. Memories In The Dark

Author

Author's Note: Aha. You think I'm very predictable, huh? You think just 'cause they're both adults and in a house together they'll MAKE LOVE, huh?! ... You just wait and see. And [mail me][1], too! I sure hope this'll be longer than the last one...

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

**Chapter 6 - Memories in the Dark  
**MIT2-06 - "When the memory comes, I'll say I'm always in the dark..." - Vertical Horizon

I glanced at Buttercup from where I sat on the side couch. She held a tissue to her eyes, wiping the abundant tears away. I had dug out some of my old DVDs for us to watch, and Buttercup had chosen the Sixth Sense, because she'd never seen it. It was almost the end, now, and Buttercup, her of all people, was crying.

She sniffed loudly, perching her head on her elbows. I grinned, leaning back on the couch. "Good movie?"

"Not scary at all," she said, reaching for the box of tissues. I stood slowly and stretched, just as the ending credits began to roll. "Come on, I think it's about time we headed to bed. I haven't been getting much - any sleep at all, really."

"Mm," She said distractedly, wiping her face dry. I gently took the tissue box from her, dropping it back on the coffee table. Taking the remote control, I turned the TV off, and the DVD player as well.

"I said, come on. You brush your teeth or whatever... there're some extra toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet, I think... and I'll get you some sleeping clothes." Holding her arms, I bodily hauled her up to her feet. She laughed, climbing into my arms, causing me to lurch backwards.

"Come on, Butchie, babe. Giddyap!" She hit me on the behind, and I winced with a bit of a grin, wrapping my arms around her and regaining my balance. I carried her to the staircase and up, her laughing all the way. I dumped her back down on her feet unceremoniously in front of the bathroom, and she disappeared inside, still giggling.

I yawned as I entered my room, kneeling in front of the closet to dig out some of my old clothes. Eventually I came up with a huge shirt and a pair of shorts that might have fitted me... five years ago. It'd fit Buttercup, though; she had a pretty slim build, but damn, she had a wiry strength I could only wish I had.

She wiped water from her mouth with the sleeve of her top as she exited the bathroom. I held out the clothes I had chosen for her. "Here... You'll be sleeping in these."

Buttercup stretched out the shirt, which had the words "wanna see my junk?" printed out in block letters. After studying it for a while - as if fashion would matter when she was sleeping - she gave me an approving nod, and shooed me away, disappearing with the clothes into the room she'd claimed as her own.

After a bit of clothes-ruffling, which I could hear from outside, the door unlocked, and I opened it to peek inside. She was just pulling back the covers on her bed, and when the door opened she glanced up at me.

I grinned, raising an eyebrow slowly. "Lookin' good," I said. Buttercup just laughed, flicking hair out of her eyes and blowing me a kiss.

"Goodnight, o generous gorgeous one," she replied, climbing into bed. I gave a little wave before shutting the door and returning to my own room. I was definitely looking forward to my well-deserved rest, and yeah, things were looking up. With Buttercup around, I didn't think I'd ever have a boring day.

Nervously holding a small bunch of flowers behind my back, I approached the nurse at the counter. "Um... may I see the patient... Ms. Rodriguez? I won't be in for long, just... for a visit. I understand she... she's not allowed to have long visits...?"

The nurse, who was a cheery young woman in perhaps her mid-twenties, picked up a clipboard and glanced at it. "Yes; you may see her for a while, though. May I see your ID, please?"

I reached into my pocket and dug out the small laminated card. She peered at it closely, and noted something down on the clipboard. "She's in room number 428, down..." She leaned around the corner and pointed down a hallway, "that way. Please have a nice day," she nodded, returning my ID to me. I smiled as a quick thanks and headed down the hallway.

I entered the room pointed out to me, gently closing the door behind me. "Robin?" I whispered, moving forward, my hands still behind my back.

Robin lay on a hospital bed, under the covers, looking rather pale. But she was there. I resisted the urge to jump for joy, slowly stepping forward to her bed. "Hi... Robin," I said, and she opened her eyes. A smile crinkled across her face as she recognized me, and I held out the flowers to her. She reached out weakly, taking the.

"Hi, Butch," she said, putting the flowers on the nightstand and watching me as I took a seat beside her bed. I smiled, taking her hand up and gently squeezing it.

"How are you doing?" I asked, holding her hand tight. She smiled again, shifting uncomfortably, before answering.

"Well... when I first got into here, I remember the doc' saying... I might not make it, depending on whether the bullet hit anything... important. Might be crippled, or whatever. But seems like I'm going to pull through, after all..."

The words warmed me inside, an alien feeling, like the kind I got... almost never. I felt as if someone had given me a shot of brandy, or something of the sort. I leaned down slowly, and, cautiously wrapping my arms around her, gave her a hug. Robin gave a short, wheezing laugh, somehow managing to hug me back.

"Thanks for coming to see me, Butch," she whispered, planting a kiss on my cheek. I blushed unconsciously, and withdrew a little quickly.

"Err, you're ... w-welcome..." I stammered, holding a hand to my cheek. Robin's quiet chuckles reached my ears as I headed for the door, with a quick backward glance at her, and a reassuring smile. 

Leaving the hospital, I could feel something unfamiliar in the deep parts of my stomach. A strange emotion, like guilt, worry, anxiety, and relief rolled into one. I felt it then, but I didn't know that I was maturing slowly, not just physically but mentally, as well. The few days here had done me good, I guessed. I was a more... complex person, by the looks of it, with not just the emotions of rage, happiness, and sadness, but remorse, unease, relief, and even jealousy. Not jealousy of the material kind, I reminded myself, but a different kind of jealousy. The kind I'd felt when I'd seen Bubbles and Brick.

_Oh well, _I thought, _I have Buttercup now. 'tleast I won't be lonely._

I stepped into the house quickly and locked the front door, still shivering as I took off my coat and hung it on the coat rack, before removing my shoes. It was getting slightly warmer, yes, but it could be downright freezing nearing the evening, especially when it rained like it had that day.

Passing through the living room towards the kitchen, I noticed the sudden absence of Buttercup. _Don't tell me she's gone off gallavanting already..._

"Buttercup, are you in here?" I called, peeking into the kitchen.

A wildly laughing green flash of light bowled me right off my feet and sat on me victoriously. I lay on my back, eyes wide in shock, as Buttercup continued laughing heartily.

"Hey, there, gorgeous. Pasta for dinner tonight!" She was up in a flash and back into the kitchen, leaving me to rub my chest painfully and lift myself to my feet. I did so, smoothing down my sweater as I steadied myself against the wall, Buttercup's cheerful laughter ringing in my ears.

"Special occasion tonight, or do you just feel like killing me with your cooking?" I smiled, giving her a quick hug from behind as she washed her hands. Returning my smile with one of her own, she slipped out of my grasp towards the pot cooking on the stove - it actually smelled quite good.

"Oh, I just felt like it. Who knows, you might actually like the taste of..." She paused dramatically. "Buttercup's Super-Special PASTA!"

I chuckled. "Maybe."

It turned out her pasta was actually quite good, and on a full stomach did I sit down to watch TV with her, in the living room, where I hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. It was a little past nine o'clock at night, and I'd been working the day shift that week. Buttercup, who'd had a couple of beers with her dinner, leaned against me as we both watched the TV. After a while, she shifted her head up to gaze at me, and I glanced back at her with a grin. She had a serious expression on her face, though, and continued to study me carefully.

"Butch?" She asked, snuggling closer into my side.

"Yeah?" I said, my eyes flickering from her to the TV screen.

"Are you ever... lonely?" She questioned, as her fingers brushed my cheek. A tingling sensation moved down my body, to more... sensitive areas. I swallowed, and suddenly my entire body was focused on her, on her being, on her voice, on her alluring scent. I lost myself into her deep green eyes, but something prodded me to answer.

"Yes," I whispered. She smiled then, slowly, and leaned forward for that inevitable kiss. I closed my eyes, an electric shock running down my spine at the contact of skin on skin, of mouth on mouth.

The first taste of her lips was wonderful, bubbling champagne and sweet strawberries. My eyelids trembled, and I wrapped an arm around her waist. Slowly, we kissed deeper, my fingers entwined in her hair and running downwards over her back. She moaned my name through my lips softly, but suddenly, she wasn't Buttercup.

In my mind's eye, I didn't see her raven locks, or the depths of her beautiful green eyes. Yes, I knew she was beautiful, but all I could see was blonde locks falling over supple shoulders, and sparkling blue eyes... all I could see was Bubbles.

I realized where we were, then. She had fallen backwards on the couch, and I supported myself over her, her hands tugging at my shirt hungrily. I slowly cleared my head, and lifted a hand to still her advances. She stopped, gazing at me worriedly.

"..Am I...?" she began. I shook my head, taking up her hand and pressing my lips to her fingertips, one by one. I hadn't noticed it before, but a softly glistening layer of tears had filmed over her stunning oculars, gleaming only when moonlight filming through the window chanced over them. I closed my own eyes, letting her hand go, and slowly moving backwards, lifting her back upright.

"No, it's not you... it's... I... just that... I..."

She gazed at my questioningly, and I forced myself to confess. "..I love Bubbles."

Slowly, her eyes locked onto mine, and I turned away shamefully. Instead of being screamed at, though, as I had expected, Buttercup hugged me tightly, her tears staining my shirt.

"I... I know how you feel, Butch... Oh, God..." She buried her face in my shoulder, and I held her quietly. In a few minutes, she'd calmed down and steadied her breath enough to speak, and she did, an essence of sincerity emanating from her entire self.

"It's... it's just... when you came, it... was as if... you saved me... after the P-P... Professor, and Blossom, oh, Blossom..." She hid her face in her hands, continuing in a whisper. "When Blossom... died..."

It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping. Blossom was dead? But I held my tongue, and waited for her to continue.

She gathered herself together, and resumed. "That... that last night... was the... the... last night we were... a... family... Brick, he... he g-grew distant, after you'd... you'd left... Boomer just... he just... with the Professor... Blossom and Bubbles, it was like they didn't know me anymore... I didn't know them, I..."

"Shh," I comforted, reaching forward to hold her cheek. She lifted her reddened eyes slowly, gathering strength from me, with a new warmth. A deeper... feeling... like love.

"You... you left, after a while, you... couldn't stand us... then Him, and... Her came back, with all their stupid little... and when Blossom tried to save us, it was... she did... but... Oh..."

With her words, a slow realization began to hit me. It was because of me. It was my fault they'd broken up, it was my fault Blossom died saving them. It was because of me. But I bottled this up inside myself, and reminded myself blame didn't matter anymore. Hugging Buttercup close, I placed my hand on her head, comfortingly.

"I... I understand, Buttercup. You don't have to say any more..."

That night, I realized what I had to do. I couldn't live with this pain. It wasn't my own pain, but Buttercup's pain, and the pain my family must have felt. I had to go back and try to fix everything. I had to.

Only... Only, I knew also, I didn't want to. Even though I _had to_, I was reluctant. This world, this... this place... it was so... I loved this place, I knew, almost like I knew I loved Bubbles, and how I loved Buttercup. It was a different kind of love, and I couldn't explain it then. Love... love is dangerous. Love and you will be wounded... _But some wounds are worth it_. And as I gazed into Buttercup's eyes, her eyes with so much pain in them, so much sorrow, I knew I had to do something about it.

Somehow.

Rey: -sniffs- I'm almost crying at my own writing. Sad, so sad, sad sad sad. Anyway... um... review. -sniffsniff- Sad!

   [1]: mailto:TheAK472@aol.com



	7. The Forgotten Remain

Author

Author's Note: Uh, I'm back! Hello... -makes a face- I'm going to have to read some of my old books, look to see if I can... -cough- steal any ideas... -sieves out some plot and mixes it into her own story- Uh... [mail me][1], I suppose.

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

****Chapter 7 - The Forgotten Remain  
"You'll never silence the voice of the voiceless." - Rage

Part 1

I spent another much slower week at my desk going through paperwork and on the beat chasing down crooks... the usual. Although some policemen are trained for undercover jobs, they may only be called for duty once in a while. I still had my regular job, of course, and right now I had to sort out - you guessed it - more paperwork.

As I worked, though, my mind was practically anywhere but work. Wondering what Buttercup was doing, what she'd have prepared for dinner when - if - I got home. Worrying about Robin. Dreaming about Bubbles... No, _real_ daydreaming. Not some perverted crap. I mean, if you're dreaming about a girl's hair and eyes and her voice and all that usually irrelevant stuff, it means you're in love, doesn't it?

While I was pondering that, absentmindedly shuffling whatever was in front of me, one of the drones in the office broke the train of my thoughts.

"Butch, there's a call through for you. From DCI Tre Keane... Something about a job." The drone raised an eyebrow at me suggestively. I drifted out of my trance, back into the real world, and waved him away.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll get back to him..." Body shaking with a yawn, I reached to the phone and dialed.

_Butch..._

"Aw, man, not this again." Another one of those voices - and they were getting so familiar - "roused" my from my sleep. It was one of those dreams, though, where I knew I was sleeping.

_Do you believe in Fate?_

The way the voice pronounced it, I felt as if this fate had a capital "F", was FATE in skyscraper, billboard, Hollywood-type neon letters.

"Matrix moment," I muttered. To the bodiless voice I said, "Depends on which life I'm living."

_You have a destiny, child._

"Destiny's Child?"

_Stop that._ Now, the voice sounded slightly peeved. _You have a destiny to fulfill, a part to play..._

I paused. _Do I really? _It seemed as if... well, Buttercup had... but we...

"Should I believe in Fate?" I asked, and the voice laughed. That kind of... elderly-person laugh. The kind of laugh, well, that makes you feel young and ignorant, but also, somehow... doesn't let you feel bad about it. It made me feel like I'd be old and wise soon enough...

_Even if you don't, won't it still exist? If you stopped believing in life, would it stop, or would it still go on?_

"...I guess you're right," I said, tilting my head to one side.

_You are learning, Butch. And you are beginning to change, but ... _A beat. _It is a good change, _the voice decided.

"Yeah, well, thanks for your support," I grinned. A deep chuckle resonated around me in response.

_I will not disturb your sleep any longer, then, friend. Good night, Butch._

And I was returned to my sleep.

Nate, beside me, muttered hopelessly as we set down the street towards the shebeen at exactly ten o'clock, just as DCI Keane had said. A day or two before, we had observed the place from a nondy, and got the general layout of it. I had objected to making our entrance at ten o'clock - seeing as places like this only even had action past midnight - but DCI Keane was adamant.

"It'll be better that way, then," He had said, when I protested at the meeting with the back-up team. "You'll have been there long before when it _does_ start heating up, and you'll be less likely to run into any trouble. Let's synchronize our watches, then."

Nate himself had been almost randomly picked for the job. He was new to the undercover business, this being just his third job, and his nerves were proving very contagious. As we rounded the corner and reached the staircase down, two young black women in skimpy clothing and a man in typical gangster getup appeared and headed down the stairs towards the front door. We increased our pace, slipping inside right behind them.

The reinforced doors managed to muffle some of the noise, but when you were inside the doors didn't do a thing for you. My head throbbed with each bass beat and my bones shook in time with the rap.

The smell of cannabis prevailed in the shebeen - practically everyone excepting Nate and myself was smoking a joint - and the only lights to see by was the sporadic flashing of the lights near the DJ's turntables.

We instinctively moved for the bar. I decided against trying to get away with orange juice or Coke, and ordered some strong liquor. Nate himself was quite partial to beer, which he mentioned as he ordered one. With our drinks, we found a patch of wall to lean against and, chatting nonchalantly, began to observe.

People had gathered in small groups and were talking, but it was too early for anything huge to be happening. After twenty-five minutes we had seen all there was to see and headed back out.

Nate and I jogged the three blocks down to where DCI Keane was waiting.

"How was it, lads?" He asked, watching the two of us. I gave a nod, and Nate shrugged.

"That's good. If you're both fine with it, I'll authorize you two to head in there as often as you like. Now that you've broken the ice, I want you to be heading there on a daily basis, and I want reports on my desk every morning. I want to know this place well enough that I feel like a regular myself."

Both of us nodded, and gave a crisp "Yes, sir." With luck, the job would be coming off soon enough.

I came through the door, swinging my coat off my shoulder and hanging it up. "Buttercup! I'm home!" I called. 

There was no reply, and I winced. _She could be sleeping already and here you are, galumphing around the house like an elephant. But... _and then I heard music, very softly playing, from the kitchen. Sleepy-sounding music, with a slow, depressing beat.

"Clint Eastwood," I realized. A terribly, terribly old song, by that band... _Gorillaz? Something like that... _"Buttercup, are you in here?" I called again, entering the kitchen.

Buttercup stood there, swaying slowly to the music. And she held a knife to her wrist.

Part II

For the first time, it seemed as if she'd noticed me, the mist in her eyes folding away for a moment. "Stay back," she whispered, starting to tremble. "Don't move or I'll do it, I swear."

"Buttercup -" I began, but she wouldn't let me finish.

"Don't try and convince me not to, Butch... I know what I'm doing. I know why. I saw Brick today, Butch. And you know what? He was with. My. Sister."

I swallowed, my feet glued to the floor. "..Bubbles?"

She turned an evil eye on me, and snarled maliciously. "Of course, Bubbles! Would he be dating a dead girl?!" She snapped, teeth still bared.

I just stared at her blankly, and she shook her head, her grimace turning into a half-laugh, half-sob. "I'm sorry, Butch. I'm sorry." My muscles tensed, and still I waited. Waited too long.

I look back at that moment, and think about what an idiot I was. Then again, if I had moved, maybe I'd never have made the right choice after all. So many different things I could have done, should have done, so many choices I could have made... Was it all a set-up? Just a lesson? Or was it real?

"Goodbye, Butch." With three amazingly quick, violent swipes, she began to bleed.

I dashed forward, knocked the knife from her hand as she sank to her knees. I grabbed her, lifted her up, my mind swirling, confused, _What do I do_? I pulled my shirt off, wrapped it tightly around one gaping wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but, my God, so much was coming out, in great pools on the floor... With shirts from the laundry nearby, I tied up the second, the third wound... but it wouldn't stop, it just wouldn't...

I called an ambulance. Watched them bundle her up quickly and take her away; they wouldn't let me come... the second friend in a month to be taken away in an ambulance. I wondered why... who would let this happen.

Me. I let it happen... maybe it wasn't totally my fault, but I could have done something about it. It was Brick... Bubbles, I had to talk to her. Shaking, I searched through one of the cupboards in the kitchen, finding a clean towel and mopping up the mess on the floor. A nightmare... this had to be a nightmare. But the blood, the coppery stench was real, the gleam of it on the floor from the sickeningly white kitchen lights, the drowsy music still humming in my ears, the slick feel of it under my hand and the towel... It was all real, too real.

__I ain't happy; I'm feeling glad.  
I got sunshine in a bag.  
Man, I'm useless, but not for long.  
The future is coming on.

I passed out.

A few hours later I awoke, the towel stuck in congealed blood. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and peeled the towel off the floor, climbing to my feet. After washing the towel, I turned off the damned music, and finished cleaning the mess in silence.

Leaving the towel in the sink, I stumbled to the stairs and slowly ascended to my room, randomly picking out a set of clean clothes. I stripped and walked to the bathroom, dumping my clothes on the floor, and climbed into the shower, turning on the water, clean, hot water... They could wash away the stains and the noxious reek of the blood, but they couldn't wash away the memories.

I stood there for almost fifteen minutes, under the pounding force of the water, before I felt well enough to walk about the house without throwing up. I turned off the shower and shook the water out of my hair like a dog before getting out to dry myself, and put on my clothes.

Downstairs again, I considered preparing myself a snack, but decided I had no appetite... and anyway, encouraging my stomach muscles to puke was a bad idea. The clock said 4:27 am, and I had nothing to do... and the address book on the dining table caught my eye.

I flipped the pages... Utonium... Bubbles. The only Utonium in the book... My finger traced out her phone number. Hand trembling, I picked up the kitchen phone and called her.

There was some slight static at the other end. _Will she be mad? _I wondered, but then, she picked up.

"Hello?" Yeah, the voice sounded grumpy. "Who is this?"

"Bubbles? It's... it's Butch."

There was a pause. "Butch, it's half past four in the morning..."

"I know, I know." I frowned. "But... I had to talk to you."

"Can't sleep?" She asked, giving me a nice easy lie.

"Sort of... Look, Bubbles, Buttercup's in the hospital."

"Buttercup?" The voice was confused, and slightly awed. "She's around?"

"Yes." I frowned very slightly, before taking a deep breath, and relaying my story to Bubbles. I told her everything up to tonight... excluding the night Buttercup and I had gotten close on the couch. When I was finished, I only then noticed the quiet sobs coming over the phone.

"Oh, my God... Oh my God. Butch, are you going to see her?"

"Yes. I was going to go about now, but I thought I ought to tell you first. ...Will you tell Brick?"

"Tell Brick? I want to come with you. Will you take me?"

"..Sure," I said, after a moment's thought. "Tell Brick, too. Get ready fast, I'll be by in about twenty minutes."

"Okay... okay, Butch." A beat. "..Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Bubbles hung up, and I did, too... Thoughtfully. Had I just agreed to take Bubbles to see Buttercup? Sisterly reunion... if Buttercup was alright. Hurriedly I moved to the front door, and slipped on my socks and shoes. It was a cold morning, but Buttercup was definitely more important right then... I hoped it wasn't too late for her. 

Rey: Aha. Sorry I didn't continue this before. I didn't have enough inspiration to write something... depressing/angsty/angry as this... Well... Yeah. Review? Puhleez?

   [1]: mailto:TheAK472@aol.com



	8. A Good-Luck Charm

Author

Author's Note: School's starting. Yeah. Depressed. [Mail me][1] if you need to.

**Maybe I'm Twisted, 2  
by "Twisted" Rey**

****Chapter 8 - A Good-Luck Charm  
"Don't leave me all alone." - Blink

When I pulled up to Bubbles' house, she was already standing out in front, holding her handbag, and looking miserable. I gave a short honk on the car horn and she glanced at the car, before hurrying down and getting into the passenger's.

On the way to the hospital, the oldies station our radio was tuned into played "Imitation of Life" in the background. It spoke worlds, really, and the mood that hung between Bubbles and I was bleak. We didn't speak for a while, she staring out the window, clutching her handbag, and I? I concentrated on my driving. It took my mind off things, driving. The sound of the recently-tuned engine purring like a cat in my hands, the steering wheel, the fog on the windshield. I guess it's a guy thing; I never knew many girls who delighted in driving...

Breaking the silence, she turned her head to gaze at me, golden locks still held up in pigtails tumbling. "Butch? .. Do you know why she did it?"

It was only then I noticed I was concentrating a little hard on my driving. My hands were white around the knuckles where I was holding the steering wheel with a death grip.

"..No. No, Bubbles, I don't know... she seemed... fine. She was happy all the time, until... until now," I finished lamely. _Yeah, great going, Butch. She really believes you_.

"Oh," Bubbles replied simply, and returned her gaze out the window. Rain was starting to fall, the perfect set for our soap opera of a life. Drizzle slicked the windshield up, and I turned on the wipers, their squeaking out of rhythm with the radio's song, "She Spreads Her Wings".

Around five minutes later, when we were nearing the hospital, Bubbles spoke up again.

"Do you have an umbrella with you?" She asked, not bothering to look at me this time.

"Yeah, in the back seat. I'll get it later," I replied, turning into the hospital's parking lot.

Most of the parking lot was full, and we resorted to a lot far from the hospital building. Putting the car into park and turning off the engine, I gave a reassuring smile to Bubbles, before unbuckling my seat belt and climbing into the backseat (with some difficulty) to retrieve the umbrella.

"I'll come around the front and open the door for you, alright?" I said, finding the umbrella half-hidden under the seat.

"Okay," she said, unbuckling her seat belt as well.

Getting the umbrella ready, I opened the side of the door. The rain was coming down in sheets, now, and I had a little trouble opening the umbrella... getting myself drenched in the process, my hair more than anything. Annoyed, I held the umbrella up, and opened the door for Bubbles, allowing her to step out. She practically clung to me as I began to walk towards the hospital, somehow managing to keep the umbrella up.

We stepped into the building gratefully, me staying near the door and the overhang outside to shake the water off the umbrella. Bubbles moved forward and had a short chat with the nurse. After a while, as I took a plastic cover for the umbrella and slicked my hair back, she came back and took me by the arm wordlessly, leading me off.

Bubbles and I took the lift to the fourth floor, and she continued to lead me down the endless hallways, finally stopping at room 4-251. As I was about to enter, she stopped me, lifting her petite hand up and knocking on the door quietly, before allowing me to enter.

It was dark in the room, and drips were everywhere. In the single bed near the large picture-window, was a small-looking form huddled under the blankets.

"Buttercup?" Bubbles whispered.

The huddle gave a weak moan and shifted, but otherwise didn't speak. We both moved forward, trying to be as quiet as we could, and settled by her bedside. Bubbles, comforting, sympathetic, and horrified, me, simply confused.

"How are you feeling?" Bubbles said, reaching to touch Buttercup's face very, very gently. The form gave another moan, green eyes opening slowly to gaze at us. A weak smile formed on her face, and she winced.

"..better, I guess..." she murmured faintly. "I lost a lot of blood, and... they have me on sedatives most of the time... no moving around for me..."

I winced. That voice... it was Buttercup's voice, and yet, it wasn't. So quiet, so resigned, so... sad. Not the Buttercup I knew... not the Buttercup I thought I knew.

"Hey," I said, my mind seeming to freeze up. Buttercup's smile widened as she gazed blearily at me. "I... missed you." Not _why did you do it_? Not _you shouldn't have done that_. Just honest, honest care.

_If it's honest caring, Butch, why doesn't it feel that way?_

I stayed with Bubbles, and she stayed with Buttercup, and we talked to Buttercup for almost three hours. When the sun came through the window and damn near blinded us, though, Buttercup gave a smile and told us to "get outta there, you're wasting your lives". When Bubbles tried to stay, Buttercup threatened to get up and chase us out, which of course, forced us to concede.

As I was about to follow Bubbles out, Buttercup hissed at me, bringing me back. Bubbles, of course, was curious, and peeked back in.

"Butch? Aren't you coming?"

I flashed a smile at her. "Be right there, alright?"

She smiled back, and nodded, leaving the room. I turned back to Buttercup, perching on the side of her bed.

"What is it, babe?"

She stared at up at me with wide eyes. "My clothes are in that closet. Would you get my jeans out?"

I blinked, but obliged, retrieving her now-clean pants and showing them to her.

"Look in the butt pocket. On the right side."

I stuck my hand into the pocket, searching around. My fingers gripped a small metallic object, and I pulled it out. I held it up to the light, and saw that it was a bullet.

"When we were younger? Before I went missing? You gave me that, Butch. You told me you stopped it before it hit one of your pals... it was your good luck charm. And you gave it to me. ..Remember?"

I stared at the bullet, and simply nodded dumbly. Buttercup smiled, trying not to move her body.

"It's yours now. Take it."

"But -" I started, a little indignant.

"Take it, Butch. I'm giving it to you. Now _go_. Bubbles is waiting for you."

Defeated, I slipped the bullet into my pocket, and turned to leave. Just as I slipped out the door, I heard her murmur behind me.

"I love you, Butch."

As I rejoined Bubbles outside, where the rain had stopped, I whispered in my mind, _I love you too, Buttercup._

Rey: ph33r tha pLagu3. Yeah, baby. FEAR ME! Anyway, I want to wrap this up soon. It seems to be dragging. This is too short. Blah. Gimme a break. I got school and stuff, okay...? :p

On Starcraft and Brood War, I am PlagueDogs ... yes, I am plural. Notice how my record is 0/0... because I only watch. ^_^;

   [1]: mailto:TheAK472@aol.com



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